Over the past thirty-two years, I have always joyously discovered the answers to my inquisitive nature in homemaking books and magazines from another time. In the olden days, nurturing a family and pursuing the domestic arts—cooking, decorating, and handicrafts was always a woman's most rewarding achievement and never considered second-rate burdens. In addition, I constantly felt a gnawing at the teeth, an internal question of why deep within my soul (what was then the Christian aspect of me) as though my well was in constant need of refilling. My well was prone to drying up no matter how much I laboured to be the best I could be. I would feel high as if my well runneth over, but the sentiments would always wither. My dear friends and readers, I could not make sense of it. I see this now with so many women, and it's quite unfortunate because they believe I mean to do evil when I am only here to do goodwill. Why did a woman of "God" have to work so entirely hard to be happy when I was living the best I knew that was humanly conceivable? This perpetual imbalance would deepen for decades until I became profoundly dedicated to uncovering the secrets of man's/woman's purpose. It may sound highly far-fetched to clamour that after my endeavour, I found the absolute truth. So it was in 2014 when my spiritual transformation commenced. Then another extraordinary moment took place when my son died. I went on a quest that no man under the sun would stop until I came out the other side with answers. The murder of a precious child will do that to a mother.
